


Worth the wait

by KittyBiscuit



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Comedy, Drama, F/M, John is a Good Friend, John is a Saint, Pining, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock actually isn't but damn well wishes so, Sherlock is a Tease, Slice of Life, Slight underage, Young Love, awkward in general, pappa greg~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 15:50:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15100022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyBiscuit/pseuds/KittyBiscuit
Summary: Sherlock is in denial, John is teasing, and Greg is so done.Y/n seems sweet, innocent - and isn't fazed that a very mysterious, creepy stranger comes along and asks about a twelve inch silicone phallus.. "It is a sex shop  John, don't be dull."John suffers so much of Sherlocks' shenanigans, he should be getting paid for this.





	Worth the wait

"Don't they sell dildo's here?"

John stopped in his tracks, choking on his slightly cold cup of coffee takeaway. No, he did not hear that right. Sherlock stares. John does too, the liquid dribbling down his chin. "Pardon?" John said, wiping the rest of the mess away. Sherlock tilted his head, his face twisted into one of his _really John are you this dense?_

_"Sherlock."_ John warns.

 

"I said," Sherlock says, pointing with a gloved hand, "Don't they-"

"I know what you said," John hisses, squinting, "In fact, now I won't be able to forget how you even said that."

Sherlock blinked, confused. "Said what, _Dildo_? John, surely you are familiar with the practice of seeking self pleasure using a silicone phallus- "

John hisses again, looking around alarmingly. " _Sherlock!_ "

People were staring. 

Then again, maybe the average person didn't know what phallus meant...it doesn't matter. 

"Listen Sherlock," John whispers, lowering his head slightly, "You can't just blurt shit out like that,"

"But I was just-" Sherlock interrupted, his voice turning into a growl, "Stating the obvious."

John snorts, shaking his head, and turns towards to where the madman was pointing, his face dropping. 

The Pleasure Spot.

Oh hell no.

"Sherlock." John warns again, turning towards the oddly smiling detective, "How in the hell did you bring me here?"

"Really John," Sherlock began, "Don't be so dense, we have a case to solve!" The tall bloke zips passed John, and the short blond drops his coffee takeaway. The blond curses loudly, shaking his head.

He speaks, "For the love of-" He stops, his face flushing, catching the lewd objects behind the display window, "Oh hell no." 

"For a case, John." Sherlock bats his eyelashes, smirking evilly, "Do be normal, John." 

Sherlock opens the door, and walks in without giving a shit.

John follows, but not without glaring harshly at Sherlock's curls. 

_Evil, evil man._

_This is a sex shop, for gods sake!_

"Halo," A person at the counter speaks, and John feels himself flush deeply with such embarrassment. The blond smiles brightly, albeit a little forced, at the kind girl behind the counter.

"Hi-"

John sputters as a overly black, overly large Dildo is shoved into his face, as though pushing him away. Then he sputters, because his thoughts were straying with _'Sherlock shoved me away using a dildo-'_

_"Do these come in size twelve?"_ The detective said, and John was amazed at the amount of seriousness dripping from the males voice. 

Sherlock then shakes the dildo, as for emphasis. 

John speaks, twisting to look at Sherlock with wide, horrified eyes, "Sherlock!-"

"John hush," Sherlock begins, turning back to the dumbfounded girl. The male was about to say another blunt statement, as his eyes racked over her with old habits. Good lord, Sherlock had to take a double take.

His brain came to a staggering halt, and he embarrassingly, _gawked_. 

Gawked is a heavily sweetened  _understatement._

Sherlock was frozen.

"Um-" The girl had beautiful features, but not that Sherlock was usually entranced by mere looks. John squinted at the faulted behavior. He was expecting to hear a string of insults thrown at the poor girl, but no tongue lashing ever came. 

Instead, the dildo was still in his face, and it smelled weird. 

"A twelve inch?" The girl said, blinking, "I doubt we have those, that would probably tear your ass." She looked pointedly at John, as she made assumptions.

John needed to correct those _assumptions._

_"I am not with this man."_ John blurts out, eyes wide. "He's _not_ my boyfriend."

The girl blinks again, squinting then, looking between the two of them. After her analysis, she seemed to find this whole thing amusing, and snickers. Her snicker is quite cute. Actually, the girl is cute, very much cute. 

John looks at Sherlock. He realizes, that he's not the only one thinking so. 

Then, John chokes again, because _obviously_ , Sherlock would not find a female doctor, nor a striking woman in black attractive. No, when Sherlock thought someone was _cute_ , or look mildly interesting to him, its' a sex shop worker. 

A _sex shop worker._  

John is done.

"So this is not for you?" She states bluntly, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes stray to the massive dildo still clutched in his slim fingers. Sherlock seems to _tense_ behind John, and the blonde tries not to smirk evilly. The girl continues, "I mean, it's not my business, but you've got quite the catch." She looks at John, and she blushes, actually blushes. 

This is so bizarre. 

John turns towards Sherlock, as he's blushing slightly too, his pale cheeks crimson. 

This is _really bizarre_. 

"Do be normal, _Sherlock_." John teases. 

Sherlock seems to come back to planet earth, and the tall bloke sputters, turning around to face John, and stare at him for a few milliseconds. He then turns, slapping John accidentally with the flap of his coat, and hurriedly whisks away, leaving the entrance door swinging open violently. Sherlock bolted so quickly, that even the dust left behind never even had time to flutter to the ground. 

The dildo's still clutched in Sherlocks' hands, _he left with the ridiculously gigantic dildo in his hands._

John is not ready to pay for that.

John then turns to the girl, giving her a wining smile. He feels a little nervous, with her large (color) orbs watching him so intently. She just giggles, shaking her head, "That will be twenty quid," She states, glancing towards the open door, "I presume you'll be paying, that is."

John's face dropped, and he tried giving her his best kicked puppy expression. "No discount?" He purrs, tapping into his full blown Three Continents Watson mode, cranking up the charm, because, if he didn't already mention, _he is not paying for a bloody dildo._

_Well, he's not paying that_ much _for a dildo._

"Oh honey," She cooed, leaning on the old marble counter with her elbows. "For a cutie like you? I'll drop the price to twelve quid."

John perks up, "Really?"

"Nope." She dismisses, smiling widely, "Nice try though." Her humus is light, teasing. Sherlock is slightly good with his taste in girls, John sees. 

Bummer she's slightly too young for John himself. A spicy girl could be interesting indeed. 

Y/n holds out her hand, waiting. 

John grumbles, fishing out his wallet.

 

~

 

Sherlock was thinking. 

No, more likely, he was pretending to. John shuffled passed the still as stone detective, making sure to make as much noise as possible. He notices the lack of movement from the man, nothing giving away the inner panic he's feeling. 

 

"I got us Chinese." He states, his back to the man, and flicks on the kettle. Sherlock makes a hmmm murmur, and John takes that as an actual answer. His lack of interest informs John that Sherlock is actually very much paying attention, and is very much making a scene of trying to ignore him.

Payback time. 

"Also," He begins, turning towards his friend with an evil smirk, "I got her number." 

First, there is silence, like a heavy stone has been dropped and the thump has echoed along inside the small apartment. 

One second, 

two 

three

 

John was beginning to doubt his own observation skills, that maybe Sherlock always stares that intensely at a lewd shop worker.Maybe he read the situation wrong, maybe Sherlock is Sherlock and will stay in 'forever alone' mode. He's still sitting there, eyes sealed shut, like he never even heard what John had spoke. 

So, he states, "Her name is Y/N, and she's kinda cute-"

That actually got something out of the sociopath. He burst open his eyes, and his body sits up slightly straighter. "She told you her name?" He asks, his voice quite low. 

John smirks. 

"Did she actually be so dense enough to give a stranger that walked into a sex shop with a man her number?" Sherlock quizzes. John tries to not smile wider, and instead bites his tongue, holding back a fit of giggles. "Apparently so." He says, watching the cloud above Sherlocks' head darken.He swishes out his mobile, holding the screen towards the dark haired male. 

A phone number flashed on the screen, followed by her name, with an added heart.

Sherlock glared.

John already sent her a text.

 

_'hey ;)'_

 

"You're an idiot,"  He glares, and turns around violently on the small couch. His back faces John, and John knows this is Sherlock in sulking mode. 

And wasn't that interesting?Not the sulking part, he did that often, no, more of the cause of his foul mood. His foul mood was spiked by him, by John, seemingly getting a stupid number. 

But it wasn't about the number, now was it?

The Detective was displaying a rare emotion, called _jealousy_.  

 

At that exact moment, his mobile chimed in his hands. 

John and Sherlock both froze, not even breathing.

The blond glanced down at his phone, and there, was a text, from the girl, from _Y/N._

_'Halo, John.'_

_"You told her your name too?"_ Sherlock barked out, glaring darkly. He stood up and hurried towards the short blond. "I can't believe you," He growls, looking down at John and if John never went to the army at got his shoulder blown, he would of found the male slightly intimidating, slightly. 

"Yes," John states in a flat tone. "Usually people do those sorts of things, Sherlock, they introduce themselves, not shove a GIANT dildo in their face."

Sherlock stuttered, actually thinking about that. 

He stood silent, but the silence was short lived. He stuck his nose high, looking more posh than a baby white tiger with ability to shit rainbows. 

"The dildo was used as a sustainable murder weapon, only the one the actual murderer used was a twelve inch." He states, looking smug. John rolls his eyes so hard its a sin. "Sure Sherlock, _sure._ You gawked at that poor girl because of a case, you stuttered and left with your tail between your legs because of _the case._ "

The taller male looked as though he actually was considering this. 

This is Ridiculous with a capital R.

"I might need help." Sherlock admits, but not showing it on his face. 

John rolls his eyes again, shoving the mobile into his palms. "Just text her, Sherlock. And you owe me twenty. Your dildo is inside the brown bag." He waves Sherlock off, turning towards the staircase.

"I'm gonna go take a power nap, of fifty hours."

Sherlock watched his friend leave, climbing the stairs without another word. Once John shut his bedroom door, Sherlock finally moved, glancing down at the mobile. His eyes widened, and looked back up towards where Johns' room is. 

"Jawn!" Sherlock called, lunging towards the stairs, taking two at a time. " _Jawn_ I _need_ advice!"

 

Sherlock heard a thump, and John cursing like a sailor. 

 

~

"Now, firstly, don't be weird." John says, picking up a crisp, popping the crunchy snack into his mouth. He chewed while looking dounfoundedly at Sherlock, who's been staring down at his own packet of crisps as though the plastic is a disgrace to the planet. 

It might as well be, you know. Plastic is atrocious.  

"I'm anything but _weird_ John, in fact, I could be described as a graceful stallion." Sherlock snaps, not breaking the staring contest with the offending crisp holder. 

John swallows, wincing at the too salty taste. He pops another in his mouth, saying nothing for a while.

 

Sherlock glares.

 

"Could you stop?" Sherlock looks up, glaring. John lifts his one eyebrow, confused. Sherlock rolls his eyes. John swallows, frowning a little. "I wasn't doing anything." 

"You're staring at me, stop it." Sherlock growls, reaching out and ripping the packet open. 

Crisps fly, and John dodges a few, but one does manage to flick inside his jumper, and its' really not what John likes, the crumbs are a pain really. 

 

They stay silent, and the little toddler wearing a tutu starts crying, because somehow crisps has landed inside her bowl of _rocky-road._  She's sitting only a few seats away, so how _that_ happened, John can't explain. 

Maybe she's crying because Sherlock scared her. 

John looks from Sherlock to the girl, then back towards Sherlock. The male looks murderous, his hands caked with crumbs. 

Plausible. 

"You done?" John asks, "Because you got crumbs inside my oatmeal jumper, and it's not good Sherlock. Not good." 

The two begin to chuckle, and the air lightens a little. 

"Graceful stallion my ass," John says offhandedly, laughing loudly. Sherlocks' deep baritone rumble follows suit, and the two giggle like two school girls. "No, but really." John states, "Don't be all weird around her, she'll find your observations slightly weird, so none of that."

"But John," Sherlock says, "I impressed you with my deduction skills."

John raises his eyebrow, looking around.

"Don't say things like that," John barks, face turning crimson. "People might talk."

"They obviously do already, my dear Watson." Sherlock says, leaning back into his chair comfortably. He flicks a chip at John, smirking. "But I get that being a bit blunt is not the way to go... if she's even interested..."

John's eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline.

"Wait, Sherlock, you sound..."

Sherlock tilts his head, "like what? Do I sound like I have the flue?"

"No," John states, "You sound, normal, actually, you sound more than normal, you sound _unsure_." His eyes widen, and so does Sherlocks'. "You sound nervous, oh god, who are you and what have you done to the real Sherlock?"

The other male doesn't say anything, only stares at John. Sherlock smiles, actually smiles. John finds this mildly unsettling. 

But Sherlock isn't looking at him, his eyes seem to be tracking something more interesting happening _behind_ him. 

John turns his head to look, and he spots her, the girl on both their minds. Y/N. She's walking into the coffee shop, all bright and cheery, wearing a very flattering dress with purple flowers.

She's stunning.

The dress is crafted high enough yet just low enough to tease the opposite gender to a stand still. People stare, some of hunger and the other of envy and wonder. Her prescience seems to brighten the room dramatically. 

 She looks around, making John wince and turn back towards Sherlock, who is also not (pointedly _not_ ) staring at her from the corner of his eyes. 

They speak at the same time. 

"Sherlock go."

"John don't."

Nothing happens, nobody speaks. Y/N gets her order, laughs and smiles along with the male behind the counter, and walks off, not even glancing towards the two flatmates. Her hips sway seductively, and John sees Sherlock choke on his own saliva. 

Once he recovers from the shock, Sherlock gets up from his seat, the chair flying out. He struts towards the counter, snatches two bagels, and leaves. John stares at the male, while Sherlock follows after her, not seemingly caring about paying...

oh...

The barista turns towards him, glaring. He glares back. He's so not going to pay for that either. He paid once for the lunatic, not again. 

The butch girl doesn't back down though, and calls two of her sturdy looking barista friends over. 

One has a tattoo on his eyelid, John spotted it when he blinked. 

John stops glaring, beginning to smile sheepishly. 

He leaves the coffee shop, his wallet dryer than what he wanted it to be. 

 

~

Sherlock bumps into the girl only a few blocks away from Baker Street. 

He collided into her by accident, she all but halt for no reason, so if anything, it was her fault. Y/n yelps in surprise, tripping over her own two feet. Sherlock has enough time to think 'Well this won't go well' before she all but scrambles for something solid to grab onto, her hands wrapping around the staples of his coat and bringing him down. 

They crash together in a puddle of awkward limbs.

Coffee dribbles down over the sidewalk, soaking both their clothes. Sherlock blinks rapidly, pain shooting through his backside. Something heavy landed on his chest pushing out all the air from his lungs. 

"Oomf." Sherlock groans, biting the inside of his cheek. His vision comes back from its' violent swirling. He glances down, straining his neck slightly, and he gazes into bright (color) eyes. 

Y/n stares back.

Sherlock stares back.

He's about to blurt shit out, but he can't find anything, no words, nothing. It startles him a little. 

She leans closer, as though inspecting his face. Sherlock finds that he can't quite breath. "You..." She snarls,

Sherlock smiles, tilting his head, "Me?" He asks playfully.

She doesn't smile, Sherlock is worried.

"You're the weirdo with the dildo!" Y/n sits up, hissing. Sherlock then remembers they are in public, so he doesn't lean close to tenderly push a strand of her rebellious strand of hair from her face, instead, looks around pointedly. 

Y/n flushes. Sherlock finds this adorable, and stacks the information labeled  'easily flustered' inside her file. Yes, Sherlock has a file of her, no he's not guilty about that, nobody knows anyway...besides John, John knows everything. 

She gets up from her position, and Sherlock misses her warmth oddly. 

"Oh this is just rich." She says, huffing and dusting off imaginary dust off her sunlight dress. "First I loose my wallet, then I bump into a weirdo with a fascination with larger than average toys."

"Silicone phallus." Sherlock corrects, nodding his head. 

Y/N stops dusting herself off, and gazes up at Sherlock. Her eyes are s bright, almost like twinkling stars, and Sherlock never thought stars could look this _beautiful._ He makes a mental note to gaze more often towards the stars. 

 "What?" She asks, looking mortified. 

Sherlock winces. "I meant-"

"Dude look, I'm late, I have to go." She waves him off, not sparing him another glance, as she hurries down the street.

Sherlock stands there, dumbfounded. 

He's holding out her purse, his voice soft, sad. 

"But...you forgot this..."

Nothing answers him except the empty silence. 

Then, the great detective does what he always does in a situation he can't control, sulk and sulk hard. 

John was not ready for the hurricane heading his way. 

 

/

"And then she called me dude, dude." Sherlock glares at the empty stethoscope. 

Molly nods, sounding interested in what he was going on about, but her nose was stuck in a overly large text book. 

"Really, then she had to run away from me, so scared that I might swallow her or something."

Molly looks up, and John, who has been quiet this whole time, decides to put in a cheeky remark.

"Isn't that what you want to do?"

Sherlock ignores this, growling and turning his attention back to his empty stethoscope. 

"Don't be dull, John," Sherlock explains, not looking up from his work, "I'm not merely as interested in her than I am in watching paint dry."

"By the sounds of it, you want to be the sun and moon to her!" John argues back, because really its' been a long and tedious day and his neck has a crank in it and he really, _really_ could use a cuppa, _right about bloody now_.  

" _John_ ," Sherlock growls, 

" _Sherlock_ ," John growls back, ready to engage in a tongue lashing that will possibly take the both of them out. 

" ** _Boys_**!" Another voice barks, and all three of them jump, Molly accidentally dropping the book, the textbook landing harshly onto the floor with an extremely loud _thud._

They all stare towards the doorway, as Greg Lestrade walks in, his face showing annoyance. 

John cries out in relief, and so does Sherlock. 

Because, one

Greg equals no more boredom, to Sherlock

Also, Greg means _savior_ to John. Johns' never thought he'd be so happy to see another man before...wait...

No homo. 

Johns' not gay. 

Anywayyyy

Win-win.

Also Molly, who sees Greg as the hot good cop, but _shh, don't say anything,_

"I got a case for you, Sherlock." He sounds very serious, and something heavy and light and _wonderful_ flutters inside Sherlocks' brain. 

Case equals distraction. 

"I'm in~" He sing-songs happily, practically drifting out his seat and towards the officer. 

John smiles widely, already getting up and retrieving his coat from the back of the chair. 

Molly keeps staring. 

"I's a tough one-" Greg begins to warn, but Sherlock haves him off with a gloved hand. "Yes, yes, we know George."

"Gregory," Lestrade growls, but it falls on deaf ears.

The other male just merely hums, already stepping out the door. 

John and Greg are not far behind. 

Molly stays, and she smiles secretly,

"Greg," She whispers faintly, finally knowing the handsome mans' name "I knew it..."

 

/

"It's obvious the victim was drugged," Sherlock took in a deep breath, long breath, and fired "Because judging by the way the foam from the mouth on the left side of his face concludes the structure of molecules inside the poison used to kill was known as-"

Then, Sherlock makes a sound near to a squawk, as he makes eye contact with something absolutely _lovely._

 No really, it's stunning. 

"Holy bollocks," Sherlock breathes out, his eyes widening. 

Greg makes a face, and turns towards what Sherlock could be possibly so entranced by. He groans, shaking his head. 

Its' an ass.

No really, its' a females behind. She's bending down, looking at one of the other dead and mauled victims. 

Sherlock's still staring. 

"Sherlock...the victim?" Greg pushes, leaning his hand out and flicking the dazed detective on the nose. 

Sherlock keeps staring. 

Until the girl stands, and turns around. 

Sherlocks' eyes become the figment of a UFO. 

"Bloody hell-" Greg begins, shaking his head and cupping his hands by his mouth, yelling out "Y/n! Come here."

The girl squints at the two, but she nods, rushing over gleefully. 

Sherlock tries not to pass out. 

"Hey dad," Y/n smiles sweetly, coming over and smacking a loud and affectionate kiss on Gregs' cheek. 

 

Sherlock feels himself faint, but he will not, pass out.

 

She turns towards him, and glares. The sudden swift change in her attitude would even put the best actor to shame....if only Sherlock knew any actors, he's not too bothered about pop culture and all. 

"You," Y/n says, pointing at Sherlock. Sherlock feels a sense of deja vu. 

Greg looks between him and his daughter, his face filled with confusion. 

It suddenly hits Sherlock that he had been caught staring at a girls rear, and not just any girls rear. 

George never informed him he had a daughter!

"He's your father?!" Sherlock splutters, only now finally catching up with the situation. His brain is sluggish, and its' tedious. He should of not taken a bite of toast this morning, digestion does slow him down.

Y/n blinks at Sherlock, then her eyes widen, 

"He's your friend?!" She squeaks, turning towards a still confused Greg. 

The older male blinks, looking from Sherlock, to his daughter, then back towards Sherlock, then back to Y/n.

"Um, yes? Why, dear do you and Sherlock also know each other?"

"No!"

"Yes!"

They both yell out, and then turn towards each other, both their eyes blown wide. 

Greg doesn't understand, but Y/n smiles sheepishly. "Dad...would you give us a moment?" 

She drags Sherlock by his collar, towards an open alleyway. 

Anderson stares.

So does Donovan, but Sherlock keeps thinking about the burning spot on his neck where her fingers had brushed. 

He realizes, he's in this deep, too deep, escape!

escape, abort!

"Okay look!" Sherlock scrambles out her touch, afraid he'll do something stupid. He stands a few feet away from her, creating space. 

"I won't tell your Father," He swallows a lump all of a sudden, looking anywhere but at the girl, "That you work at a sex shop, if you promise not to-"

"Tell him you practically slobbered all over me on our first time meeting?"  Her tone is a little harsh. 

Sherlock winces, wondering if he was indeed that stupid. 

Great, first impression was a failure. 

"Not my fault you were wearing those quite flattering-"

She comes over and buds the side of his head, slapping him lightly. Sherlock yelped, shutting up immediately. "Okay okay no talking about that."

"Good," She whispers, so close Sherlock can smell vanilla and a hint of rosemary. 

_Abort abort_ **_abortabortabortabort-_**  

"If my dad knew about my job..."

"He'd be upset?" Sherlock finishes, tilting his head up to look at the short girl. She huffs, rolling her eyes. "Duh, he'd be furious. I only need to do this for a couple more weeks-"

"For the money, hospital bills, am I correct?" Sherlock answers, and Y/n buts his head again, 

"Ouch! Why are you still doing that?"

"Because you keep interrupting." Y/N lets her hand fall to her side, and she huffs out in a defeated sigh, looking down towards the dirty floor. Sherlock thinks she's the perfect description of how a stray puppy would look, lost in the rain, drenched and alone. 

Sherlock feels his icy heart ache. 

"My mother is badly ill," She begins, not making eye contract, "And dad is, busy, to put it lightly." She looks up then, at Sherlock directly. 

Sherlock holds her gaze, stepping closer. 

"And you want to help, without burdening George."

"Greg," Y/n blinks, dumbfounded. 

"What?" Sherlock looks deeply confused, so Y/n shakes her head, holding back a sweet giggle. 

"Nothing, don't worry bout it." She waves it off, smiling widely up at the Detective. 

"But you're right, and working is the only way, albeit its' nothing compared to waitressing, but its' _something_." She bites her bottom lip, frustrated. "Dad wont ask for help, he's stubborn, but then again, so am I."

"Cute," Sherlock states, nodding his head like he's just came to a logical conclusion. 

Y/n stutters, flushing crimson. 

Anderson is still watching. 

"You just...did you just call me, cute?"

Sherlock walks passed her, ruffling her hair lightly, in such a fond way it should have been worrying, but Y/n doesn't seem to mind actually. The touch is nice, comforting. 

Anderson is _still_ watching. 

Sherlock leans close, his nose brushing the side of her flushed cheek. "Don't work there," He begins, his hot breath setting fire to her skin, "I know another place, much better with working hours and pay, but it's a little boring."

Y/n moves her head a little back in order to stare into the pale blue eyes. 

"What is it?" She asks.

Sherlock all but beams, leaning out from her personal space and stepping a few feet away. 

Anderosn has not stopped watching, godamm perv.

"All you need, is a bag of patience and an extra bedroom, also a high tolerance for a certain blond bloke-"

" ** _Sherlock!_** " Booms a familiar voice. 

She looks at Sherlock, squinting.

Sherlock smiles, and slips in a piece of paper into her back pocket. His fingers drift over her rear, slightly, not enough for her to notice. 

"Goddammit Sherlock!" Johns' voice rings through the crime scene, and Sherlock actually hears the anger in his voice, how it drips with murderous intentions. 

"Sherlock bloody holmes I knew better than to trust you..." John comes crashing in, all short tempered and short height structure, not that he wasn't still terrifying. 

The male in question smiles sheepishly. 

John glares murderously, his persona all emitting signs to upcoming _doom._

"You locked the bloody flat,"

"To make sure you won't go inside." Sherlock waves the short man off, but if you looked hard enough you could see him internally screaming. 

Johns' left eye twitched. 

Y/n made a point to step away slightly. 

Anderson was still watching. 

John points a sturdy finger at Sherlock, snarling. "And why the bloody not!"

Then, right on que, an explosion shook the ground, and funny enough, John actually tumbled quite adorably to the ground. He was like a harmless kitten truly. 

Once he got up, dusted off his jeans, he glared at Sherlock. 

"I guess this is a good time to tell you," Sherlock took in a deep breath, and fired, "We're needing a place to stay-"

"You bloody _idiot!_ "

 

Anderson was still watching, and, funny enough, his face twisted up into a smile, or so what Sherlock thinks is close to a smile an Anderson could ever achieve. 

 

/

 

"Thank you again for the great hospitality Lestrade," Sherlock beams, holding out a large envelope _stuffed_ with cash. 

The older male looked wearily upon taking the offered money at first. Sherlock had to shake the envelope, his patience thinning. Not too long it stood between the two, because Greg gave in, and took it, glaring at Sherlock.

"Is this about me lending you a spare room? Because mate, I would of done that for free."

Johns' angry protest drowns out by Sherlocks voice, as he beems only brighter at the detective, waving off like a madman. 

 

"Nonsense! It's common courtesy to pay for ones stay while ones flat is being tended to after an _unexpected_ explosion."

Greg now looks weary, and he shuffles from foot to foot, the night air chilly enough to make the detective have to put on woolly socks. 

"Sherlock," Greg begins, wincing at the crack in his voice, "Is this...this isn't something you normally _do._ "

Upon Sherlocks silence, Greg sighs heavier, "Sherlock, you, being nice, making me a cup of coffee this morning-"

"It was a convenience-"

"It was something weird and not what your character normally does," Greg states, and a soft noise bring his attention to his daughter, who's standing by the hallway, holding their pet cat.

Greg blinks, surprised.

"Y/n?" He asks, watching how she seventeen year old flushes upon being caught snooping. 

"Sweetie, go to bed."

Y/n hugs the cat tighter, as the feline's tail swats from side to side. "Alright..." She whispers, but begins walking forwards, "Night Dad...." She comes and pecks his cheek, the cat meowing between the two. 

When she pulls away, she stares towards Sherlock, and Greg finally understands, sadly. 

Once she's up the old creaking stairs, Greg turns back towards the Detective, seeing how Sherlock watches her go, a look of longing on his pale features. 

Greg smiles. 

"Sherlock," Greg begins, clutching the envelope tighter. 

Sherlock startles, turning back towards Greg, smiling sheepishly, ready to apolozise for being caught staring again-

Greg moves forwards, and engulfs the lanky detective in a large bear hug. 

Sherlock yelps in surprise, but doesn't pull away. 

"Thank you." Greg whispers, and Sherlock just holds tighter, and its' all Greg needs to know, that Sherlock means it too. 

Once they break away, Greg actually starts chuckling, shaking his head.

"What's funny?" Sherlock asks, tilting his head. 

Greg smiles wide, giving the male a look, the fatherly look,

"Maybe when she's a little older, alright boy?"

Sherlock blushes fiercely, and bites his bottom lip, looking like an antelope in headlights. 

 

"But I never, we never, she's only..." His excuses die off his lips, and Sherlock just chuckles too, nodding in defeat. 

"Alright," He adds in, "Sir."

 

"Promise me Sherlock." Greg says seriously, and the other male nods hurriedly. 

"Promise," Sherlock looks towards the staircase, seeing her bedroom door close, "I'll wait..."

 

 

Once Sherlock walks away from the door, already across the porch, he hears his name being called. 

Turning towards the house, Sherlock loos at the closed door, frowning. 

"Up here, you handsome idiot." 

Y/n is there, sitting by her open window, a big, gorgeous smile splayed over her features. 

Sherlock breaks out into a smile, flushing. 

She's wearing a nighty, all laced and tempting. Y/n knows this too, she planned it. 

"I'll see you around, detective."

Sherlock nods, swallowing a lump inside his throat, and thinks, _yes, indeed so, my dear Y/N,Y/n  Lestrade._

 

/

Mrs Hudson was away from the flat when the explosion occurred, Sherlock isn't that diabolical. 

John's room was destroyed the most, but he was quick to make up his mind that he wanted the downstairs bedroom now, thank you very much. 

It was the lest Sherlock could do for his blogger, and after that, nothing. 

 

The years rolled by, and Y/n grew older. 

 

And, Sherlock kept his promise. 

 

And Greg was more than happy, to finally give his daughter away, to the man he'd always wanted her to be with.

 

At the alter, Sherlock was smiling broadly, his crisp suit fitting perfectly. Bells ring along with cheering, but Sherlocks attention is on his soon to be bride, all dressed in a beautiful wedding gown, with violet flowers printed along the front of her sweetheart neckline. 

John was trying to keep his daughter quiet, shushing her using methods of sweetness, handing her cookies to insure she stays silent, because nobody really likes a baby crying by a wedding.

_He's trying OK._

_Anyway._

Y/n walks down the ale, Greg by her side, holding her tightly. 

Once Greg gives hid daughter away, a lone tear rolls down his cheeks, hoping that his wife was watching her daughter finally grow up into such a beautiful bride.

The wedding vows are said, and the rings are brought. 

"Now, you may kiss the bride."

 

 

Sherlock leans closer, his breath brushing passed her soft, pink lips. He smiles, and whispers softly, "Finally." 

His lips locks with hers, and they feel fireworks egnite between the two of them. So does the crowd, rupturing in applause. 

Once the two break free, Sherlock leans his forehead on hers, looking lovingly into her eyes. 

He hums, happily. 

" _So worth the wait_." He breathes against her lips, and kisses her again. 

 

/

 

**Author's Note:**

> Good?
> 
> /This story was funny to write, and indeed a pleasure to explore, hopefully you like it/


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